


two of a kind

by Radiday



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 11:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17897189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiday/pseuds/Radiday
Summary: The Andrews men were nothing if not adamant in suffering alone.





	two of a kind

He stops keeping beer in the house, is the thing,  after he finds the bottle in Archie’s desk drawer. Which is fine, because he decides it better just not to have it at all than to obsessively count the bottles everyday after work to make sure Archie hadn’t taken any when he wasn’t home.

It’s fine, really, even though the beer was the only thing that helped him relax at night, the only thing that helped him sleep. He’s used to waking up with his heart racing but now he’s got to get used to going to sleep with it pounding in his chest too.

But it’s okay, because it’s for Archie, and he’d do anything for Archie.

He gets rid of the stuff in the liquor cabinet too, slowly, not all at once, because he doesn’t want Archie to think anything of it. Most of it goes down the drain, but he gives one unopened bottle of Merlot to Alice and another bottle of champagne that must’ve been for one New Year’s Eve or another to Sierra and Tom as a wedding present.

And then it’s gone, all of it, and he knows he should have done it sooner, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t, because now he’s stuck in a constant state of panic about where Archie is and what he’s doing and if he’s gotten in another fight or gotten drunk or-

He throws the bottles away for Archie but now they’re both falling apart.

He and Mary keep fighting, too, which only makes things worse. Fred had woken up one day and decided that the only plausible solution to this mess was to have Archie go live with his mother, and Archie has said no faster than when Fred offered him the family business.

And Mary had said, sure, of course, Archie can come to Chicago, but Fred just _had_ to mention that Archie didn’t want to go to college anymore and Mary had so adamantly said that that wasn’t an option, that he had to go, because otherwise he’d end up like-

And she hadn’t meant it, obviously, not at all, because Fred’s proud of his life and proud of his work and Mary’s proud of him too, but she’d _said_ it, and that’s all that matters.

She said it and he hangs up on her and Archie stands there, watching, wondering how much of this is his fault.

Fred hangs up on Mary and Archie asks if everything’s alright, and Fred says yeah, fine, like he thinks Archie can’t read between the lines. And then Fred goes upstairs to take a shower, and it takes him a full ten minutes to realize that he’s crying, because he _wanted_ to go to college, had dreams outside of this town. Mary’s right. Archie can’t be him. He doesn’t have to go to college, but he can’t become Fred.

She calls back later, after they’ve both had time to cool off, but they start at it again almost immediately. She says they should’ve come with her to Chicago, that it would’ve been better for them to stay a family and Fred can’t stop himself before he says that she’s the one that left, _you walked out on me, remember?_ And he says _I begged you to stay_ and she says _I begged you to come with me_ and he doesn’t hang up this time, even though he wants to, but says he’s tired, and he doesn’t want to fight, and he’ll call her back tomorrow.

When he goes back down he sees that Josie’s over, which is new. She says something about playing guitar in the garage, and Archie’s supposed to be in trouble for his fight at the job site, but he’s smiling, and Fred hasn’t seen him smile in weeks, so he doesn’t say anything. Let’s them go out back and says he’s got to see a man about a thing and that there’s leftovers in the fridge if they get hungry, unless the want to order out which is fine too, here’s a twenty-

And Archie gives him that look, _that_ look, the look that teenagers give their parents, the look he’d given his own father so many times before he learned at too young an age that parents’ days are numbered and they’re only trying to help.

Which is how he winds up here, standing before stones and maybe spirits and hopefully souls, because he needs help and he needs someone to _hear_ him, and if all that’s in this cemetery is a stone with his dad’s name on it then he’s just wasting his breath.

It doesn’t matter, because lately it seems like nothing matters, so he starts talking anyways, says that he’s already lost the battle and he’s still losing the war, that he’s got no everloving idea what to do to help his son because never in his wildest nightmares was it supposed to end up like this-

He tells that useless piece of marble that he needs help, he needs help and he needs his father, because _you always knew what to do and and you left so goddamn soon, left me to figure it out on my own._

Archie calls him and sounds worried, because he’s been gone for a few hours, says he and Josie are going to Pop’s, and do you want a strawberry or vanilla milkshake? And Fred says neither, I’m okay, but Archie brings him a strawberry one anyway, gets one for himself too, because he knows what it means when someone doesn’t want a milkshake in a town like this.

Archie brings it home and Fred take a sip and wants nothing more than to throw it out the way he did the bottles in the liquor cabinet, but he keeps it, sips it, takes it for the peace offering it’s worth because he knows Archie’s _trying_ , and Archie knows _he’s_ trying, but if they’re both trying so damn hard then why isn’t this getting any easier?

At one point or another, he realizes that he hasn’t seen Archie’s friends in weeks, and Archie tells him that Betty’s investigating one murder and Jugheads investigating another and Veronica, well Veronica just won’t be coming around much anymore.

It makes Fred angry, at least a little bit, because Archie needs his friends just as much as he needs his father and he feels like they’re all just dropping the ball.

Jughead does come, one night, tells Fred that Hermione and FP are the ones that shot Hiram, that Minetta was still alive, but Hermione probably killed him too, and Fred swears he feels his world flip upside down. He went to _high school_ with these people, for God’s sake. They were his _friends_.

They _are_ his friends but now they’re attempted murderers and actual murderers and drug dealers and mayors and sheriffs and in a goddamn _cult_.

Fred thinks Archie doesn’t see him crying at night and Archie thinks Fred doesn’t see _him_ crying at night, and it feels like they’re both on sinking ships passing in the night.

But _god dammit_ , the Andrews men were nothing if not adamant in suffering alone.

Archie tells him that he and Hiram have called a truce, and Fred can’t stop himself from laughing in his son’s face. _Hiram does call truces_ , he says. _Doesn’t know the meaning of the word._ Archie looks back at him with a fallen face, those _goddamn_ sad eyes, and Fred wonders if he should’ve just gone along with it. Archie’s desperate of normalcy, grasping at any semblance of what once was. _But maybe he’s turned over a new leaf_ , he says to save himself, and to save his son. _Good for him._

Regardless, they agree to stay away from the Lodges. The whole family. All three of them. Archie tells him it won’t be hard, because he and Veronica had the _let’s be friends_ talk, but they both know that’s not how it works.

And it doesn’t work at all for Fred, because Hermione wants to talk to him, wants to apologize, wants to explain, and Fred wants to tell her to get the fuck away from him, but he won’t do that. Not without a couple drinks at least. So he lets her come, let’s her talk, let’s her explain, and let’s her words go in one ear and out the other. It’s taken him thirty years, but he’s no longer interested in anything Hermione Lodge has to say.

There’s still a part of him, though, a part that’s not bitter and angry and _scared_ , a part that’s still who he was thirty years ago, that knows it’s not Hermione’s fault. A part that knows she’s just as trapped as the rest of them.

Speaking of high school love, Archie’s dating Josie now, which is good. Fred likes Josie, always has. Level headed and determined, that one. Just what Archie needs. He’s boxing too, with Tom Keller, and that relieves Fred, to know that Archie’s got some kind of outlet for his anger.

Fred needs an outlet too, is the problem. The pent up _whatever_ that’s inside of him is so jumbled that he can’t even tell what he’s feeling anymore. He misses the pills, misses the pretense of being shot so that he could pop a few and not feel anything at all.

He _could_ talk to Mary, but things are still touchy between them and the last thing Archie needs is his parents fighting again. He’s not going to talk to Hermione, and he doesn’t even know where to find Alice if he wanted to. So he calls FP, but his anger swells the second he hears his old friend’s voice on the other end of the line, so he hangs up. He’s getting good at that, hanging up.

No more than ten seconds go by before his phone rings, FP, of course, and he leaves it. Let’s the shill sound of his phone drown out the thoughts racing in his head. No beer in the house, so this’ll have to do.

After fifteen minutes, there’s a knock at the door, and, really, Fred should’ve expected this. FP’s gotten his act together for what might be the first time in his life, and for all the times Fred’s begged, pleaded, for FP to _please stop drinking, to go to rehab, to talk to Gladys, and Jughead, and Jellybean-_

For all those times, Fred really thought he would be happier for him. He knows Gladys is back, Jellybean too, hasn’t been bothered made it over to the Southside to see them, but they’re back. And FP’s not drinking. He’s got a job. Which is exactly what Fred’s always wanted for him.

He’s jealous, is what it is. Jealous that FP’s life is falling together while his is falling apart.

And sure, FP almost killed a man, but Fred doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that right now.

Regardless, FP shows up at his door and Fred doesn’t answer, doesn’t move, doesn’t think to get up off the couch or pretend to be asleep because he’s forgotten that he’d given FP the key before they left for Toledo, just in case he didn’t come back, just in case Archie wanted him to come with-

But Archie didn’t, and Fred really wants that key back. Which is exactly what he says when FP swings the door open, looking just a little panicked and a lot scared, questions on his lips that Fred doesn’t want to answer.

Fred hesitates for less than a second before he’s screaming at FP to get out, _get the hell out of my house_ , and FP just stands there and wants to know _what the hell happened, what’s going on Freddy? Just talk to me._

He can’t. He can’t _just talk_ because he doesn’t know what there is to talk about. His brain, his heart, his _soul_ is so confused that he doesn’t even know which way is up.

So FP does as he’s told, slips out of the house, but not without reminding Fred that he’s just a phone call away.

And then it hits him, hours later, after a nap that leaves him feeling worse than before, that the real reason he’s so angry is because he’s always expected this to happen to FP. Fred Andrews was a good man, a _good_ man, a man that did exactly what was expected even before it was asked, a man who gave up his dreams because dreams aren’t always what matters most. He’d done everything right, raised a good son, and yet somehow he, his family, were the ones being shot at and attacked by bears and targeted by motherfucking Hiram Lodge.

It wasn’t supposed to happen to him. It was supposed to happen to FP.

FP, with his alcohol problem and his jail time, and his estranged family and all those _goddamn_ secrets.

Fred has secrets too. Hermione. The pills. He wants to ask the universe why, _why_ this happened to his family, but he’s not sure the universe has an answer for him. He’s not sure it knows.

He doesn’t know, either, and he’s too tired to care.

But he _knows_ , just like with Hermione, that this is not FP’s fault. Knows that he should be proud of him for cleaning up his act, for taking care of his family. And the part of him that knows that thinks back to the last real attempt Fred made to get FP help, after he’d fired him and Gladys and Jellybean had left. Thinks back to that last ditch effort late one spring night when FP had yelled, not unlike Fred tonight, to _get the fuck out_ , and Fred had pleaded and said _you’ve managed to push everyone away_ . _I’m the only one still in your corner._

And what had happened that night was not unlike what happened today, one friend pushing the other away when what they really wanted was help, _please help me_ , but couldn’t figure out how to say it.

One shove, then another, and a third that sent Fred landing on his knees and the trailer door slamming shut in front of him. And that was it. He was not going to stand around and help a man who stole from him, who hurt his own children, who didn’t want help. So he left.

And just like the swell of anger he felt earlier, what Fred feels now is a swell of panic and guilt. He knows now what he didn’t then, that FP’s anger was his way of asking, _begging,_ for help. He hopes FP will understand, will be able to read between the lines. Maybe they speak the same language now.

He’s not even down the porch steps to the truck when he hears the voice, looks back to see FP perched on the porch swing, hours after he’d been ordered to leave. Opens his mouth to ask the question that FP’s already got an answer to. _Told me to leave the house. Never told me to leave the porch._

And Fred can’t help but laugh as relief floods him, to finally, _finally_ , have someone who can understand, who can reach in and pull out the words that Fred can’t himself manage to find. He needs help. Needs a way out of whatever black hole he’s been sucked into. Needs a friend. Needs his son, needs a life, needs to be _happy_.

One look at FP rocking the seat with knees, and suddenly Fred finds his words, tells FP what he wants, what he _needs_ , and FP just pulls him into a hug and doesn’t say anything at all.

And in that moment, Fred feels more understood than ever before. Maybe they really do speak the same language, after all.


End file.
